


Mac Sleeps Over

by DollBones



Series: Dynamic Duo In Effect [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: (Implied) Eating Disorder, (Implied) Molestation, Anxiety, Bigotry & Prejudice, Character-Typical Awfulness, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mental Health Issues, Racism, Sexual Content, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:04:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollBones/pseuds/DollBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac and Charlie's first night at Dennis' house.  Mac gets a look into the dysfunction of the Reynolds family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mac Sleeps Over

Getting close to Dennis Reynolds, as it turned out, wasn’t the easy ride that Mac thought it would be.  It was actually more like a full-time job.  Because, as Mac discovered, Dennis was pretty fucked-up.  Like, really fucked up.  

Mac realized this truth about Dennis fairly early.  For one, the guy harbored intense, grandiose delusions about his status.  He often referred to himself as the “king” of the school and the other kids as “his minions.”  In actuality, he more or less hovered around the periphery of the cool crowd, who tolerated him because of his sort-of  friendship with Tim Murphy, and Murphy himself seemed to interact with him primarily out of pity.  Other than these threadbare connections with people who could care less whether he was around or not, Dennis didn’t seem to have any other friends.  Sure, he talked a big game, but that was part of the whole Dennis Reynolds mask.  The person Mac met under the bleachers, he found out, didn’t really exist.  It was an elaborate fabrication, an act Dennis insisted on playing even as they got to know each other.  

In fragments, Mac caught glimpses of the real Dennis.  The real Dennis was the person who exploded in scary rage when he dared to utter the slightest uncomplimentary remark.  It was the person so consumed by vanity and crippling insecurity that he slathered his cheeks in foundation and stayed home when he couldn’t cover his break-outs (the existence of which he refused to acknowledge).  A person who could react with disturbing indifference to stressful situations but then crumble into tears at minor inconveniences.  A person who called himself a “golden god,” but fretted over his appearance in mirrors, poking at his skin and hyperventilating over trivial flaws.

Still, these revelations about Dennis’ true character didn’t deter Mac from pursuing their friendship.  If anything, Mac found himself relieved.  Dennis was just as broken as he was.  Maybe even more so, he learned, after he spent the night at his house for the first time.

 

Naturally, Mac was intimidated.  The money issue remained a major wedging block between him and his new friend.  Charlie outright refused to go; he continued to be wary of Dennis and jealous of the attention Mac was devoting to him.  “What do you see in him, anyway?” he’d said.  “He’s one of those snobby rich phonies.  Plus, he’s really mean.”

“He’s not mean,” Mac argued.  “He just has more...discriminating tastes.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow.  “Did he tell you that.”  It was more of a statement than a question.

“Okay, so he’s a little mean,” Mac conceded.  “But he’s really cool and fun to be around and…” he hesitated, seeing the look on Charlie’s face, and rushed on, flustered, “and I really want all of us to be best friends.  Okay?  This is probably the only chance in my whole life I’ll be able to step foot in a mansion, so please, don’t ruin it.”

Charlie thought for a moment.  “Alright.  You got me with the mansion part.”

Mac thrust his fist in the air in triumph.  “Boom!  I knew I’d get you with the mansion part!”

“ _But_ I’m not dressing up or pretending to be classy,” Charlie said firmly.  “I am who I am.”

Mac deflated.  “You think he’s expecting us to dress up and get all prim and proper and shit?”  He’d never thought of that.

Shrugging, Charlie said, “I don’t know, man.  I’m just saying I’m not going to.”

 

This got Mac thinking.  And when Mac got thinking, really thinking about something, he couldn’t stop.  The gears in his head would churn and grind, turning his thoughts in mad circles, making him feel sick and restless.  In the few hours before Mrs. Kelly was supposed to pick him up to drive him to the Reynolds residence, he paced the dilapidated expanse of his house, chain-smoking his mother’s cigarettes.  He forced himself to shower, slicked back his hair, and put on two colognes to mask any residual white-trash smell that Dennis’ upper-class nose could possibly detect.  After trying on five different outfits, he settled upon the gray polo shirt, tie, and black slacks which he normally wore to church.  His best shoes were his new combat boots, so he slipped them on, thinking that they injected the perfect amount of bad-ass into the ensemble.

His stomach was still tying itself in knots when Charlie’s mom dropped him and Charlie off at the house.  The boys gasped when they saw it.  It wasn’t merely the biggest house they’d ever seen.  It was a palace.  Regal and proud, it loomed over them like a giant white birthday cake that Mac had never had, like a picture from a fairy tale book that his parents had never read to him.  An immense garden, lush and beautiful, swept all around the house, creeping up one of its walls in vibrant tendrils of ivy.  The porch alone was bigger than Mac’s bedroom.  Mac and Charlie looked at each other, both feeling and thinking the same thing: We don’t belong here.  With a deep intake of breath, Mac rang the doorbell and waited, now pissed that Charlie had done nothing to spruce himself up.  The kid actually looked worse than he had earlier, his hair greasy and mysterious stains over his worn-out shirt and holey jeans.   _Jesus, Charlie, couldn’t you for once try to look like a normal, civilized person,_ he seethed, heart thudding against his chest. _You’re going to blow this.  Goddamn it, why did I want you to come?_

His thoughts were cut off when a tall, brown, maid-looking woman answered the door.  “Reynolds residence,” she said in a thick, husky accent.

“Uh, we’re Mac and Charlie,” Mac said timidly.  “Dennis’ friends.”

Now that he was looking past her obvious illegal alien-ness, Mac saw that she was actually quite attractive.  Big tits.  Sleepy, sooty-lashed eyes.  Sexy, upturned pout.  She smiled demurely.  “So he has friends now?  Come on in.  I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She ushered them into a white and gold foyer, with tiles gleaming like perfect ivory teeth.  Her ass swaying with graceful insouciance in her tight skirt, she wiggled up a massive, ornate staircase and perched herself like a seductive lioness upon the railing.  “Dennis, honey,” she called, “your friends are here.”

In a moment, Dennis appeared at the top of the stairs.  “Ah, you’ve arrived!” he announced, affecting a bizarre, “cultured” accent.  Mac ignored the look Charlie gave him, his attention focused like a spotlight upon the other boy.  Dennis had changed into an expensive-looking sweater, dark slacks (Mac rejoiced), and black leather loafers. His brown curls had been swept to the side with long strands gracefully dangling over his forehead.  He descended the stairs like the lead actor entering the stage in a play, chin up and face angled so that the golden light of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling outlined his high cheekbones and jawline.  As he passed the maid, she reached out to stroke his sweater and flashed him a peculiar, suggestive smile.  “Very handsome,” Mac heard her purr.

Dennis looked a bit taken aback, but overall pleased by the compliment.  “Thank you, Josephina.”

Still beaming that feline smile, she leaned over and whispered something in his ear.  Dennis became more rattled, jerking away and nearly stumbling on the step in front of him.  There was a thin tremor in his voice when he next spoke.  “Very well, Josephina.  We’ll call you if we need anything.”

Turning to them, he appeared to recover himself and descended the rest of the stairs.  He strode towards them. “Hello, Charles Kelly and McDonald,” he greeted,  “I trust you had a safe journey."

Charlie wrinkled up his nose, frowning in confusion.  “What do you mean?  It took us 15 minutes to get here.”

Dennis acted as if he hadn’t heard, beckoning them to follow him.  “Come on, let’s go up to my room.”

Mac and Charlie had agreed in the car that they wouldn’t go nuts over what they saw in Dennis’ house, pretending that such exorbitant displays of wealth were commonplace to them.  Still, Mac couldn’t help himself exclaiming as Dennis led them past a series of grander and grander rooms, “Dude, your house is incredible!”

Dennis gave his first genuine smile of the night.  “Why, thank you, Mac.”  His smile faded when they passed by a door on the left.  Pointing, he made a face and spoke with cold disdain, “My sister Dee’s room.  We’re twins, believe it or not.  Don’t go in there unless you want to be permanently scarred by the image of her ugliness.”

A little harsh, Mac thought.  Though, to be fair, he’d seen Dee on a few occasions.  All spindly limbs and metal back brace, she lived up to her nickname as the Aluminum Monster.

Dennis pushed open a door next to his sister’s.  Brother and sister with rooms right next to each other; Mac’s deeply ingrained Catholic upbringing raised alarm bells. _Move past it_ , he told himself.  The door swung wide to reveal a massive, sumptuously decorated bedroom.  The furnishings were of the finest Mac had ever seen, the dressers and cabinets all authentic oak, the curtains thick and lustrous, the bed an ocean of crimson silk.  The walls were adorned with numerous photos of Dennis and various artwork. Including...

“Naked lady!”  Charlie yelped, eyes wide as saucers.  Mac’s gaze settled uncomfortably upon a painting of a nude woman exposing her massive breasts.  He lowered it, blushing.

Dennis took note of their horror, flashing another proud smile.  “Yes, it is a naked lady,” he said.  “It’s also a fine work of art.”

“Your mom and dad let you put up pictures of naked ladies in your room?” Charlie asked in wonder. A sense of awe had slipped into his voice, which further stroked Dennis’ ego.

“Of course, “ he boasted.  “They understand that there’s nothing obscene about the female form.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Mac said.  “You don’t jack off to it?”

“Oh, I definitely jack off to it,” Dennis admitted cheerfully.  “Like, every day.”

The three boys laughed.  To void his mind of the painting, Mac threw himself upon the bed.  The mattress cradled him like a gentle hand, warm and firm.  “Wow! Your bed is crazy comfortable.  I could sleep all day in this.”

Dennis bristled.  “Take off your shoes before you go leaping onto my furniture, please."

“Sorry.” Mac kicked off his boots then fell back upon the bed with a noise of extreme contentment.  Charlie followed suit.  Dennis walked over and perched gingerly upon the edge of the bed.  “So, what would you two gentlemen like for dinner?” he asked, reprising his role of genteel host.  “We have a range of delicacies.  Filet mignon.  Lobster.  Grilled rabbit…”

“Pizza!” Charlie cried.

“Pizza!  Let’s get pizza!” Mac agreed.

A shadow fell over Dennis’ face, and Mac worried if he’d offended him.  Oh God, pizza must have sounded totally _déclassé_.  But catching his eye, Dennis brightened.  “Alright, pizza it is, then.” He hopped off the bed and picked up a phone on a nearby end table.  “Papa Jones?”

“Papa Jones!” Mac and Charlie said in unison.

Dennis ended up ordering two extra large pizzas, one with half pineapple and anchovies for Charlie, half pepperoni and sausage for Mac.  Dennis insisted that they leave one pizza with just cheese.  “Any more toppings is too much.  You’ll get sick and throw up on my floor.”

Waiting for the pizza guy to arrive, they decided to do some prank phone calls.  Mac went first, wanting to impress Dennis.  He dialed the first number that he saw in the phone book.

“Spic-n-Span Laundry,” a bored female voice answered.  “How may I help you?”

It suddenly occurred to Mac that he had planned absolutely nothing to say.  His palm grew clammy under the receiver.  

“Hello?”

“Um...is your refrigerator running?” He cringed as the words left his mouth, hearing Charlie’s and Dennis’ moans of disappointment behind him.

“Sir, we have no refrigerator here.  This is a laundromat,” the woman replied.

Mac sputtered, feeling his face turn red.  “Oh well, have a nice day then.” He hung up and reluctantly turned to face the others’ mocking stares.  

“What the hell was that, man?” Dennis demanded in astonishment.  “‘Is your refrigerator running?’ Are you serious?”

“I guess I didn’t really think through what I was going to say,” Mac admitted sheepishly.

“Clearly.”

Mac puffed out his chest, defensive.  “For your information, I’m a man of action, not words.  If you think you can do better, then why don’t you go ahead.”

“No, I wanna go next!” Charlie protested.  He yanked the phone from Mac’s hands.

“Geez, fine!  Who are you calling?”

“You’ll see,” Charlie said, dialing.  He waited for the phone to ring, trying and failing to contain giggles.

The other person picked up.  Mac and Dennis leaned in to listen.  “Hello…?”

It was a girl.  Mac thought she sounded vaguely familiar, like someone he’d heard once or twice around school, but it was difficult to be certain.  As soon as she answered, Charlie froze, blank panic shooting into his eyes. Oh, Christ.

“Hello?” The girl said, louder now.

“Say something!” Dennis hissed.

Charlie’s mouth moved but the only sound it produced was soft, incoherent gibberish.

“Hello?” The girl said again, getting pissed.

“Huh-huh-hello,” Charlie stuttered dumbly.

A few seconds passed.  “Charlie, is that you?”

Mac and Dennis glanced at each other.  “You know this chick?” Mac asked.

“It is you, isn’t it, Charlie,” the girl continued, confident, and unleashed a diatribe.  “Listen, don’t call me again and quit following me around the school trying to ask me out.  I don’t want to go out with you.  I think you’re creepy and weird and I just don’t like you at all.  Okay?” She sighed, as if feeling bad, and said in a gentler tone, “Please, don’t call this number.”  

Charlie hung his head at the click of her disconnecting.

“Aw, man, that stings,” Dennis commented, clapping him on the shoulder.  However, Mac could see the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, as if he were trying to hold back a smile.

“Is that the one girl you’ve been talking to me about?” Mac said to Charlie.

His friend nodded.  His eyes were moist.  “Yeah.”

Mac filled Dennis in.  “There’s this one girl he’s in love with.  It’s all he’s been talking about for the past few months.  For some reason, though,” he squinted, trying to think, “I can’t remember her name…”

“Tell me later.  I’m sure if she’s remotely attractive I’ve probably banged her,” Dennis said, casually disregarding Charlie’s feelings.  He grabbed the phone.  “Now, I’ll show you how a real prank call is done.”

Dennis dialed.  Once again, a girl picked up.  “Hello?”

Dennis’s voice became a menacing snarl.  “Hey, you bitch.  Ever wonder what your own intestines taste like?”  He followed up with a series of lewd grunts and slurping noises.

“Fuck you, psycho!” the girl squealed in terror, and hung up.

Dennis let out a peal of wild laughter.  He fell back on the bed, shaking with glee.  Mac and Charlie watched him, mute with shock.  Dennis kept laughing, holding his sides.  Just then, the front doorbell rang, breaking the layer of tension.

“That must be the pizza,” Mac said nervously.  “Better go get it.”

Composing himself, Dennis rose from the bed.  “I shall retrieve the pizza,” he announced.  “Nobody touch my shit while I’m gone.” He gave a sinister grin.  “Or you’ll actually find out what your intestines taste like.”

“What the hell?” Charlie said to Mac once he left.

“I don’t know.  He just has a pretty dark sense of humor,” Mac rationalized, his words sounding weak even to his own ears.

“Who thinks making people eat their own intestines is funny?” Charlie flailed his arms in the air, breathing heavily.  “That is serious shit, Mac!  People need those!”

“Just relax, Charlie.”

“Relax?” Charlie nearly screamed, his voice taking on that shrill, hysterical edge that heralded one of his famous unearthly shrieks.  “How can I relax when I’m spending the night with a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer,” Mac growled.  “And for Christ’s sake, keep your goddamn voice down!”

Dennis re-entered the room, carrying two boxes of steaming pizza.  Charlie shut up, trying to look normal.  “Dinner is served,” Dennis said.

The boys dug in, anxieties forgotten in the face of delicious food.  Dennis put on Indiana Jones on his giant black TV and sat next to Mac on the bed to watch.  Mac enjoyed his closeness; it gave him a chance to showcase how funny he was with his witty movie commentary.  Plus, sitting next to Dennis, the scent of the other boy's shampoo tickled the edge of Mac's nostrils; it was a nice smell that further enhanced his enjoyment of the moment.  About 30 minutes in, one whole pizza was devoured.  Mac and Charlie inhaled their portions, gobbling them down like starved animals.  Dennis ate carefully, taking delicate bites.  Mac was on his fifth slice while Dennis was still working on his second, nibbling and looking down at it with an intense concentration.  Catching Mac looking at him, he snapped his attention back to the movie and rapidly finished the slice, picking up another.  Mac got lost in the movie, too.  When both boxes of pizza were empty, Dennis stood up and excused himself to the restroom.  Time passed and Mac found himself needing to use the restroom as well.  Dennis wasn’t back yet.  He frowned.  He really had to go, but it was pretty  _déclassé_  to go wandering around in someone else’s house in search of the can.  After a few more minutes, though, he decided to go for it. 

Telling Charlie that he’d be back, he walked out into the hall.  He was almost certain that the bathroom had been the first room on the right, so he headed off in that direction.  Reaching the door, Mac saw a narrow panel of light glowing underneath it, indicating that the room was occupied.  Duh, he thought.  Of course Dennis would be using this bathroom.  Shit.  Now he didn’t know what to do.  Mac looked around helplessly, crossing his legs to keep his full bladder from bursting, when he started to make out strange noises coming from inside the bathroom.  It sounded like retching.  He knew because it triggered his own gag reflex, so on top of dealing with a swollen bladder he also started to dry-heave.  Thankfully, the noise stopped, Mac heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, and Dennis stepped out.

Mac could have sworn that he looked a little more pale than usual.  The other boy looked at him in surprise, then guilt, as if he’d been caught in the act.  “Mac, what...I had to pluck a few eyebrow hairs,” he said hastily.

“You sick, bro?”

“What?” Dennis said, growing agitated.  “No, of course not.”

Hmm.  This was weird, but whatever.  Move past it.  “I have to pee.”

“Okay.”  Dennis moved out of the way so Mac could go in.

Once Mac relieved himself, he came back to the bedroom and sat in his spot next to Dennis, studying him in the dark.  If he was sick before, he seemed okay now, and Mac relaxed.  At some point in the movie, he shifted and accidentally brushed up against Dennis’ arm.  An arrow of hot, pulsing heat shot through him.  “Oops, sorry!”

“It’s okay.” A satisfied smile crept across Dennis’ face, making Mac even more tense  The other boy looked away, thoughts racing.   _He gets off on this_ , he realized.   _He likes toying with people._ His idea was confirmed when shortly thereafter, Dennis moved and their feet touched.

Instead of moving away, Mac stayed in his position, allowing himself to relish the warm, fuzzy feeling settling in his stomach.  If Dennis wanted to toy with him, he decided that he didn't care.  Dennis’ toes were ice cold, but his were hot.  They complimented each other.  Like a dynamic duo, he thought happily.

They watched another movie, then Dennis broke out some beer he’d stolen from the liquor cabinet and they got hammered, talking and goofing around.  At around 1 am, they decided to go to sleep.  Mac and Charlie curled up in sleeping bags on the floor.  Mac felt a twinge of dismay when Dennis collapsed in his bed, but told himself that he was being stupid.  What did he expect, for Dennis to sleep on the floor next to him?  He squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed in his sleeping bag.  Maybe.

He dreamed that he was standing inside Dennis’ bedroom.  Dennis stood in front of him, smiling in that way he had when Mac had brushed up against him.  Except now his smile was more intense, flirtatious.  He winked at him, eyes shining blue beacons of light.  “Hello, Mac,” he said.  His voice was low, dusky with lust.

Mac gulped.  “H-hello Dennis.”

Slowly, without warning, Dennis reached up and started to unbutton his shirt.  Mac could only gape at him, impossible to wrench away his eyes.  The other boy smirked coquettishly at his struggle, undoing the last button and tossing his shirt to the side.  His smooth, bare chest revealed itself to Mac, scrawny yet dappled with lean muscle.  He posed, allowing Mac to thirstily drink up every ounce of his body with his gaze, and then advanced towards him.

Mac tried to move, to run, but was held captive by the other boys’ eyes.  In no time at all, Dennis reached him.  He lowered himself to a kneeling position.  “God, no,” Mac whimpered (as the real Mac turned in his slumber, growing hard).

“ _I_ am god,” Dennis told him, unzipping Mac’s jeans to present his erection.  “And I say, ‘yes.’”

Mac moaned, half from pleasure and half from shame, as Dennis took his throbbing dick into his mouth.  Dennis sucked, swirling his tongue expertly around the length of his penis, head bobbing.  Mac trembled, knees threatening to cave.  “Dennis,” he said, over and over as the other boy worked, “Oh, Dennis…”

He was about to succumb to the massive orgasm building in his gut when out of nowhere a female voice bellowed, “Get the fuck out of here!”

 

Mac snapped awake, feeling the wetness in his sleeping bag.  “Shit,” he muttered, and quickly whispered a prayer, “Please God, my Lord and Savior, forgive me for my transgressions...”  He sat up and looked around, realizing that he was alone.

“Where did everybody go?”

Again, he heard the female voice that had interrupted his dream and cringed; god, that sound was annoying.  “I said, get out of here, _you fucking perv_!”

Something interesting was definitely going down.  Mac climbed out of his sleeping bag and sauntered out of the room, just in time to have Charlie shoved into him.  “Ow, shit!”

“She pushed me!” his friend shouted back, jutting his thumb in the direction of the other door.

A tall, skinny blond girl in pink pajamas scowled maliciously at them from the threshold.  The Aluminum Monster, Mac thought.  Only she wasn’t wearing her back brace now.  Still, Mac found himself repulsed by her.  With that irritating squawk of hers, she sounded like a giant bird.  “You came into my room,” she snarled at Charlie through an ugly plastic retainer.  “Probably to rape me.”

“I thought it was the bathroom!  I wasn’t going to _rape_ you!”

She narrowed her eyes.  “You’re Dennis’ friend, aren’t you?”

“I don’t even know if I like Dennis!” Charlie cried, tired and exasperated.  “He’s _strange!_ ”

“What’s going on?” Dennis was climbing up the stairs.  As he came close, Mac could see in the light coming from Dee’s room faint lipstick smudges plastering his neck.  Move past it, he thought.

“Dennis, tell your weird friends to stay the fuck out of my room,” Dee said to him.

“I did,” Dennis insisted with an amused chuckle.  “Charlie, I told you not to go in Dee’s room, didn’t I?”

“It was dark!  I couldn’t see!”  Poor Charlie.  The idiot was very bent out of shape.

Dennis turned to his sister.  “Well, there you have it, Deandra.  The kid couldn’t see.”

Dee scoffed, folding her arms.  “Fuck you, asshole.” She turned and slammed her door, loud.

The noise brought a short, grubby-looking man not even five feet tall out from one of the other rooms.  The man came towards them, rubbing his eyes and yawning.  He wore a thick robe over his pudgy frame.  “Hey, what’s all the ruckus?” he asked in a bleary voice.

This must be Frank Reynolds, Dennis’ dad.  The millionaire business tycoon.  Mac couldn’t believe it; Dennis looked nothing like him.

Dennis instantly became annoyed.  “Nothing, Dad.  Go back to bed.”

Mr. Reynolds looked from Mac to Charlie in sleepy bewilderment, eyebrows wrinkled.  “Who are you two?”

“They’re my friends,” Dennis said tersely.  “The ones I told you were spending the night?”

Mr. Reynolds glanced at his son.  “Oh, you have friends now?”

Dennis exploded.  “Go back to your room, Dad!” he raged, balling his hands into fists.  There was murder in his eyes.

His father remained nonplussed.  “Jesus, you’re gonna wake up your mother.”

“Mom’s in a Valium coma.  A tornado wouldn’t wake her up.”

Mac was surprised when the Reynolds patriarch laughed in response.  “Ha ha, you’re right about that,” he chortled.  “Just keep it down, okay?” He walked back to his room.

The boys returned to Dennis' room, and the rest of the night passed without incident.  Mac was the first to wake up the next morning, then Charlie.  Dennis remained stubbornly entrenched in a coma-like sleep.  Hunger forced the friends to resort to shaking him awake so they could get breakfast.  Dee was already in the kitchen, munching a bowl of Cocoa Puffs at the table.  She hunched her shoulders and glared at their approach.

“You’re gonna get fat eating those,” Dennis pointed out to her as he glided past her chair, trailing his hand provokingly across her back.  “They have no nutritional value.”

Dee squirmed away from his touch.  “At least I eat breakfast.”

“Dee, breakfast is a non-essential meal,” Dennis lectured, starting up the espresso machine.  “That whole most-important-meal-of-the-day bullshit is just another excuse for fatties to stuff themselves with donuts and sausage.”

Dee rolled her eyes.  “Dennis wants to be the male Kate Moss,” she explained to Mac and Charlie.

“Who wouldn’t want to be Kate Moss?” Dennis said, lighting up a cigarette and leaning his lithe limbs back upon the counter.  “She’s a rich supermodel.”

“She’s also an anorexic junkie whore.”

“Same thing.” Dennis cocked a smile, exhaling a plume of smoke in her direction.  He looked splendid in the morning light, Mac couldn't help but notice, hair mussed just the right amount. Almost as if he'd styled it while Mac and Charlie slept...

“I hope you do become the male Kate Moss,” Dee said with savage finality.  “Then you can get addicted to drugs and die.”

Dennis stretched, cat-like, uttering a groan.  “Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

With a screech of her chair across the floor, his sister rose and promptly crossed the room to toss her dishes in the sink, where they landed with a violent clatter.  Whirling around, hair lashing over her shoulder like a whip, she crossed the space between herself and her twin in two long-legged strides and rasped in his face, “Go to hell.”

“After you, baby girl,” Dennis said back, their eyes locked in an intense staring contest.

After a moment, Dee broke away and stalked out of the kitchen.  Mac heard her run up the stairs and slam the door to her room.  “Damn.”

Dennis took another drag of his cigarette.  “Oh, what, that?” he asked, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.  “Yeah, I hate her.  You want eggs?”

The boys gathered around the table for breakfast, talking and eating noisily.  “Did you have a good sleep?” Dennis asked Mac at one point, peering at him over his mug of coffee.  

“It was fine,” Mac said quickly, stuffing his mouth with egg before he could say anything else.

Soon after they finished breakfast, Charlie’s mom pulled up to the house in her beaten-up van.

“Let’s do this again next week,” Mac told Dennis at the door.

“Sure, why not.”

Before he realized what he was doing, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Dennis in a hug.  Dennis extricated himself, startled.  “Oh, okay then.  Bye.”

“Bye,” Mac said back, embarrassed, swearing at himself in his head.

 

Walking towards the car, Charlie eyed Mac suspiciously.  “Did you just hug him?”

“Shut up,” Mac ordered.  Move past it.   

     

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a lot longer than I'd originally planned. :) I'd started writing it as additional chapters to my other fanfic "Ronnie the Rat Meets the Golden God," but it became its own story. Comments appreciated!


End file.
